Giorno indeed didn’t realize that Aerosmith was equipped with a carbon dioxide radar. He didn’t intentionally speed up the willows’ photosynthesis to absorb the nearby carbon dioxide.
But intentional or not, Aerosmith couldn’t lock onto him now.
Giorno’s figure had completely vanished into the swirling willow fluff.
“What should we do?”
Narancia glanced at the radar showing nothing, then at the swirling fluff ahead, saying, “I can’t find him at all now!”
“Don’t panic…” Having understood the situation, Fugo instead calmed down.
He carefully observed the dense, fog-like fluff ahead and said in a deep voice:
“Do you see it?”
“The speed at which the willows are ‘pumping’ fluff has slowed down. There’s no wind on the street now, so the fluff blocking our view will soon fall to the ground.”
“And that curly-haired guy only used his ability on those two or three willows. Even if more fluff comes out, it can only cover a range of about ten meters around those trees.”
“If he wants to escape, he can’t stay forever in this small ‘fog zone’ that’s only about ten meters wide.”
“Got it…”
Narancia understood Fugo’s meaning:
“And this ‘fog zone’ is so small. Even though he seems to be hiding his tracks with the fluff, he’s actually trapped himself in this ‘fog zone’!”
“If he doesn’t want to sit and wait for death, he’ll have to make a move soon.”
The situation was indeed as Fugo and Narancia had predicted.
The life force that Golden Experience had infused into the trees could only last for a while. Once that “medicine” wore off, the willow fluff production quickly halted.
No more fluff fell from the trees, and there was no wind to stir up the fluff on the ground.
Soon, the fluff that had fallen to the ground formed a thick white blanket, while the “dense fog” in the air gradually thinned.
At this rate, Giorno’s tracks would soon be revealed again.
And at this moment…
“Muda muda muda!”
From within the dense fog, Golden Experience’s loud shout could be heard.
On the other side of the fog, two more roadside trees began to shake violently under the golden flurry of punches.
More willow fluff was produced, and the ‘fog zone’ rapidly expanded forward.
“Trying to expand the ‘fog zone’ with fluff while hiding your tracks and escaping forward?”
“That’s useless…”
Fugo sneered:
“Even with half a brain, you can tell that where the ‘fog’ expands, that’s where you are!”
“Your position is actually exposed by yourself!”
“Narancia…”
“That guy is already ten meters ahead of us. We can’t wait any longer.”
“You come in with me; I’ll protect you.”
With the fluff blocking the view, if Fugo and Giorno tangled on the other side, Aerosmith could easily cause friendly fire by only relying on the carbon dioxide detector to find enemies.
So, Fugo simply called Narancia along.
After all, with Purple Haze, the other side wouldn’t dare approach. Fugo’s side became a safe zone that perfectly protected the “ADC.”
“Okay.”
Narancia nodded and followed Fugo.
At the same time, Aerosmith in the sky roughly aimed at the area where the ‘fog’ was expanding, the area where Giorno had just been seen, and fired a burst of bullets.
This burst missed.
But faint sounds of Giorno rolling on the ground to dodge could be heard from that direction.
“He’s indeed there!”
Having further locked onto Giorno’s position, Fugo and Narancia continued their pursuit.
Aerosmith nimbly adjusted its flight path, continuously firing in Giorno’s general direction.
But Giorno didn’t give up. He kept dodging bullets and continued forward along the road, creating more fluff from the willow trees to expand the ‘fog zone.’
Just like that…
Giorno fled forward, making more willows “bloom” along the way. The ‘fog zone’ expanded forward, and Aerosmith kept shooting.
Before long, Narancia and Fugo had chased Giorno for dozens of meters.
Their bodies were covered in a thick layer of white fluff, and the ground was piled with thick “snow” that could sink their calves.
At first glance, they looked like two snowmen frolicking in the northeastern snow.
They looked bedraggled but had the upper hand.
Because they had successfully caught up to Giorno.
Once they were close enough, not even the obstructing fluff in the air could hide that distinct silhouette.
And Giorno, desperate from dodging bullets, had exhausted a lot of energy in a short time. He seemed to have no strength left to infuse more life force into the willows, creating more fluff.
The ‘fog zone’ stopped expanding.
Giorno, fleeing forward, had also left the ‘fog zone,’ moving away from the willows that could quickly erase his carbon dioxide tracks.
“Target locked again!”
Narancia told Fugo:
“With the radar locked on, he won’t easily dodge bullets now!”
“Great… Curly-haired guy!”
“Nowhere to run now, huh?”
Fugo steadied himself, commanding Purple Haze to stand five meters ahead, acting as a shield for him and Narancia.
Thus, following behind Purple Haze, they gradually penetrated the ‘fog zone,’ continually approaching Giorno.
Giorno seemed to have given up.
He ignored Aerosmith adjusting its attack path in the sky and stood quietly outside the ‘fog zone,’ turning to look at the three blurry figures approaching through the ‘fog.’
“Why isn’t he running…”
Seeing Giorno stop, Narancia hesitated.
“Wait…”
His face changed drastically:
“Fugo, stop Purple Haze!”
“Do you… do you smell that?”
“Smell?”
Fugo immediately halted, deeply inhaling the air.
Not just the irritating fluff, but also a pungent smell entered his nose:
“This smell… is… gasoline?”
“There’s gasoline on the road ahead!”
Fugo immediately pulled Narancia back several steps, along with Purple Haze.
Only when the smell faded did he feel at ease:
“Damn it!”
“That curly-haired guy wasn’t using fluff to hide and escape; he was preparing a counterattack—”
“He used the fluff to obscure our view, then secretly opened the gas tanks of the roadside cars in the ‘fog’ and poured the gasoline on the road!”
“If we had taken a few more steps forward, we would have walked right into a trap of fire oil.”
Having narrowly escaped being burned to a crisp, Fugo was filled with lingering fear:
“Fortunately… fortunately, the gasoline smell was strong enough, and we didn’t chase thoughtlessly.”
“Curly-haired guy!”
Despite the layers of fluff blocking the view, he couldn’t help but shout towards the distant Giorno outside the ‘fog’:
“You underestimated us—”
“Vision can be blocked, but scent cannot!”
“Get close enough, and anyone can smell your trap!”
“True…”
Through the flying fluff, Giorno’s calm voice drifted over:
“The smell of gasoline is obvious; expecting someone to step into the oil is wishful thinking.”
“So…”
“Why did I set such an obvious trap?”
His voice was so calm that it reminded Fugo of his own reaction when facing simple math problems at university at thirteen—how could such an easy problem be unsolvable?
Now, in tone, Giorno was the solver holding the winning card.
He revealed the correct answer:
“Because… you misjudged.”
“My counterattack plan indeed involves fire, but gasoline was never the trap.”
“Compared to the real fuel, a little gasoline is just a matchstick to light the fire.”
“What?”
“Gasoline… just an auxiliary fuel?”
“Then… the real trap is…”
As if realizing something, Fugo’s face turned extremely grim.
He looked at the thick white blanket beneath his feet and the thick white coating on him and Narancia:
“It’s the willow fluff?!”
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